


Eager

by aoshiru



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, PWP, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoshiru/pseuds/aoshiru
Summary: Bakura and Marik just can't seem to get enough of each other. Thiefshipping oneshot. PWP.  (Revised)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I'd write a thiefshipping smut fic eventually and I finally did it! It's pretty much PWP, but also meant as an attempt on exploring some aspects of their sexual relationship... That just sounds like an excuse to write porn, and, tbh, it is. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He hated how much Marik occupied his mind.

Even now, as Bakura sat on their living room couch, just barely paying any attention to the television screen, his thoughts returned to Marik.

It'd been about a week since they'd made the mutual decision to change a few things in regard to their friendship. Unsurprisingly, the idea came to be as a result of one drunken night and a bit too much touching, flirting and the like, which inevitably resulted in the two of them sucking face until the booze had knocked them out. They didn't have sex that night, but Marik seemed intent on stating it outright, that simply being 'friends' was a thing of the past, and unsurprisingly, they fucked the next day.

After that, they'd had sex four times, and Bakura always seemed to find himself pushed into a submissive role despite their ever-present fight for dominance, much to his annoyance. Though, he supposed he couldn't really complain-- after all, he enjoyed himself enough. There was just something so satisfying, so enticing about touching him, being touched by him, the sight of those bronze hands sweeping across his own pale skin.

Gods be _damned_ , he wished Marik would get home already.

Fidgeting restlessly in his seat, Bakura grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels, seeking out a program distracting enough to keep his mind from wandering. He finally settled upon some low-budget horror film, but watching it, he felt preoccupied, unable to focus. Abruptly, Bakura decided to snatch up his cell phone and tap out a message for the boy he couldn't seem to get out of his head.

[ 16:34 ] Why aren't you home yet?

He turned back to the film, tapping his heel as he awaited Marik's response. At the sound of his text notification alert, Bakura's head snapped down to the screen.

[ 16:36 ] I told you five.  
[ 16:37 ] Eager to see me?

Bakura felt chagrined by his response. He wasn't 'eager'… He was just… anticipatory. ...Was that the same thing? Regardless, Marik certainly didn't need to be made aware.

[ 16:37 ] I just forgot what time you said you'd be back  
[ 16:37 ] Eager to have your ego stroked?

A passable retort. He smirked triumphantly at his cell phone and awaited a response.

[ 16:40 ] Perhaps.  
[ 16:41 ] You were perfectly happy stroking my ego last night.

That cocky son of a bitch. He started tapping out a denial to that claim, but then, thinking back to the previous evening, Bakura quickly realized there was absolutely no point.

[ 16:42 ] Shut up  
[ 16:43 ] Just get your ass back here  
[ 16:43 ] I'm bored out of my mind

He could wait seventeen minutes.

But that bastard better hurry up.

 

-

 

Approximately thirty-five minutes later, Marik walked through the door, and his presence was met with a vexed glower from Bakura.

"You're _late_."

Scoffing, Marik turned with a half-smirk in his housemate's direction. "Missed me that much?" he teased, eyes lingering just long enough to witness Bakura's reaction before trailing off to set his things atop the kitchen table.

Bakura's scowl only seemed to weigh heavier on his features as he whipped his head back to glare at the television. "I said it before, I've been bored all day. Why _wouldn't_ I want you home sooner?"

"Well, here I am."

That smirk was practically audible. Cocky bastard. A few minutes later Marik had returned to the living room, taking a thorough glance at the disheveled state of his housemate. Really, he couldn't have appeared much lazier, sitting there in just boxers and a T-shirt with one foot on the coffee table, his hair well on its way to resembling a bird's nest… Plopping himself down right beside Bakura with a disproving glance, Marik muttered something to himself, then turned his gaze towards the source of the occasional low-volume screams he'd been hearing since he stepped into the room.

"What are you watching?" Marik hummed, seeming disinterested despite the question.

"Shitty horror film," Bakura murmured back, glancing quickly from the screen to his company, then back.

"Mm." Honestly, there wasn't a trace of interest in his voice. On screen, a woman screeched in fear as her throat was pierced by the claws of what looked to be a demon, and beside him, Bakura swore he felt the brush of nails against the skin of his leg. When he looked accusingly at Marik, however, the other's hands were in his lap. Bakura raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

A few minutes later, Marik seemed bored to tears, or perhaps just exhausted, resting his head against Bakura's shoulder. Whether or not he was acting, all the yawns and sighs were starting to get on his nerves.

"You know, we _can_ watch a different—"

But just as he'd spoken, the nails were back, trailing boldly down to scratch the skin of his inner thigh, and Marik was smirking, head cocked at an upward diagonal in order to witness his partner's reaction. Bakura unknowingly held his breath, watching those fingers dance across his skin with a kind of unmasked fascination.  

"...Marik," he muttered gruffly, flashing the boy a knowing look. At the sound of his name, Marik promptly lifted his head and maintained their eye contact, chuckling as he continued the motions of his fingers, taking his time brushing them over the sensitive skin. It wasn't much longer before Marik had grown even more brazen, slipping the digits beneath the fabric of Bakura's boxers to tease the inside of his thigh. An unsteady breath left Bakura's lips, eyes still fixated upon Marik's, and then, as if to kiss him, the Egyptian lifted his chin, bringing their faces awfully close together. He drew himself to the side, however, instead softly brushing his lips along the shell of Bakura's ear.

"Today…" That suggestive tone of voice caught Bakura off guard, as betrayed by the slight twitch of his fingers as Marik continued. "...Did you think about me?"

He _needed_ to collect himself. Marik would _not_ have him undone so easily.

"Perhaps," Bakura mumbled back, now donning one of his more confident smirks. "…Who's to say?"

Marik gave a brief chuckle, then blew a playful puff of air into Bakura's ear.

He stiffened again. There it was-- that feeling. Bakura felt as though he were being reeled in more with each touch, with every word. It was unthinkable, what Marik seemed to do to him.  

In the midst of his own thoughts, Marik's lips were pressed to his neck, planting a kiss, and then a bite that stung just a bit too much to be called a nip, and Bakura could only revel in that sharp sensation.

 _Damn_ him for having any power at all over Bakura. 

He could hardly help the affect it had on him, though, for Bakura was a self-indulgent person, and whatever he wanted, he intended to _take_. 

 

Suddenly, Marik wordlessly pulled away, turning back to the television as though none of this had happened, inevitably leaving Bakura feeling just a bit frustrated.

"Marik…" he growled, gritting his teeth.

"Hm?" The boy's reply came with feigned disinterest.

"...You can't be serious!"

"What's the problem?" he smirked, knowingly.

"Fuck you." 

With a passive shrug of his shoulders, Marik turned back to the film. What a bastard.

All patience lost, Bakura swung himself around and roughly shoved Marik down in a flurry of movement, his fist tightly clutching the collar of his shirt. "Tease me again and you _will_ be sorry."

Although Marik was rather caught off guard by the action, his smirk only faltered for a moment, reemerging with a breathy chuckle, which naturally added to Bakura's irritation. Gritting his teeth, Bakura thought to himself of what he wanted, of the power Marik held over him. Perhaps he _could_ bare it, if only for the opportunity to indulge in this man as he pleased.

Without warning, Bakura's lips were placed firmly against Marik's.

 

It was all new to Bakura-- that eagerness, the very _human_ desire for physical connection, craving something he'd never concerned himself with... He hated those foreign feelings for the way in which they swept him up like tide, always seeming to urge him deeper into uncharted territory.

But now, those newfound cravings were more overpowering than the unease that came with relinquishing some of his control. He wanted Marik, his touch, his attention… A part of him wished to possess and control him completely, and though he knew such a caging desire could not possibly be satisfied at its fullest potential-- not with Marik, he couldn't help but want to act on those greedy, animalistic urges.

 

Marik, pinned by the stomach beneath Bakura's hips, flinched as their lips collided, but quickly fell into the familiar rhythm of their passionate kisses, eyes fluttering shut as he returned it with just as much force. Their tongues slid against each other, a natural push and pull that now came to them with more ease than the first few instances, but the sparks each bit of contact seemed to burn just as hot. By the time Bakura pulled away, both were breathing a bit harder than before, gazing at one another through half-lidded eyes.

"...Bedroom." Marik murmured.

Bakura quickly slid off him.

He was surprised to have Marik suddenly grab him by the wrist, dragging him off, though Bakura eagerly following, anticipation churning in the pit of his stomach as he walked.

Marik habitually kicked the door shut behind them, then hurriedly shoved his partner down on the mattress, gazing upon him with eyes sharp as a predator's. Then, the Egyptian climbed proudly on top of him, pushing his hips against Bakura's as he rekindled their kiss.

"Take... your clothes off..." Marik's voice came in a low, impatient grumble between kisses.

Bakura complied with a flattering urgency, breaking their lips apart to tug at the hem of his shirt. He then slipped his fingers beneath the band of his boxers and shifting them to his knees before wiggling out of them completely.

"Mm… you _are_ eager," he muttered against Bakura's lips, sliding a bronze hand across his bare thigh.

"Shut up and strip," Bakura growled back, his voice lower now, enthralled by the touch of Marik's palm.

With an amused snort, Marik pulled back to tug his own shirt over his shoulders, then unfasten his belt and slide his pants and briefs off completely, tossing them on the floor. In an instant, he'd leapt back on top of Bakura like an animal, attacking his mouth again as he rolled their hips together.

"—Mmh," Bakura breathed, the sound trapped between their lips. Moments later, Bakura's hands were trailing downwards, taking firm hold of both of their exposed arousals and sliding them together.

Marik moaned shamelessly as he broke their kiss, arching his back into the contact, and Bakura watched, aroused by the sight.

Marik smirked first, and the expression was mirrored by Bakura, both parties feeling incredibly satisfied with the flushed, lustful appearance of their partner. Barely a minute later, the paler of the two had teeth sinking hard into the skin of his jugular, and the sound that spilled out was nothing short of lewd.

Marik knew well how much Bakura loved to be bitten—one of many kinks he was sure he'd uncover as their relationship continued, and, naturally, he was more than happy to oblige him.

Dragging his teeth across Bakura's neck, he bit down again on the side, suckling the skin, then carried on as such, littering Bakura's neck and collarbone with reddish markings. They looked good on him, contrasting so nicely with the milky color of his skin. Marik preferred how they'd looked once the bruises turned to violet, however. Those suited him best.

At some point, Marik had swatted Bakura's hand away from their arousals and taken over himself with both a faster pace and a firmer grip. 

"--Marik," Bakura gasped, catching his lover's attention. "Marik, stop." There was nothing wrong with their position, but after all the anticipation from today, Bakura wasn't about to end it this way. He furrowed his brows, seeming displeased. "I don't want to finish like this."

Bemused by the suggestion, Marik gave Bakura a quizzical look, and then, a cheshire grin gradually stretched across Marik's features, giving Bakura's length an appreciate stroke. "Mm, did you want me inside you when you come…?"

Bakura immediately felt a tinge of heat prick at his cheeks, breath briefly catching in his throat. "That's _not_ what I was implying," he spat back contemptuously. The words didn't have quite as much bite as usual, but Bakura's expression was just as resentful.

"Come on, you love it." Marik tossed a nonchalant shoulder and gave a light scoff, those sharp lavender irises watching his partner expectantly. "You should see the faces you make when I fuck you."

"Fuck off."

"I can tell it feels good. You like it when I'm inside you," he hummed, giving Bakura's cock a teasing squeeze. Precome was beading at the tip now, and, taking notice of it, Marik's fingers trailed up to the head, dipping into it and spreading the liquid in a circular motion.

" _Mmh_ — no... I'd much rather-- be the one inside of _you,_ " came Bakura's half-hearted response, although he meant those words. He'd be waiting for a chance to swap their roles, not now, but soon, perhaps with a bit of liquor as leverage. The thought alone had him giddy, and a moment later, Bakura was urging his hips upwards, occasionally bucking into Marik's hand. Releasing his grip for the sole purpose of retrieving their bottle of lube from the night-table drawer, Marik impatiently uncapped the thing, squeezing a generous amount onto his palm before coating his fingers. He didn't waste any time in reaching again for Bakura's erection, clutching it with the lubricated palm and urging his legs further apart with the other. Bakura complied so willingly, Marik couldn't help his prideful hum. The two fingers he'd coated trailed down to rub against his opening in time with the slowed motions of his other hand.

"You like this?" he smirked, watching Bakura unravel before him.

Bakura responded by urging his hips towards Marik's touches.

The sight was enough, his body burned with need, leaving his own arousal neglected for the time being—but Marik had learned a bit of patience over the years, and he knew that drawing it out would only make it more satisfying by the time they finished.

Soon enough, he released Bakura's arousal, more focused on the teasing and prodding of his entrance. It pleased him to find Bakura still urging himself into the touches, encouraging him to slip one, and then another finger inside. Marik rubbed the walls, angling the digits in an attempt to find his prostate, and a minute later, Bakura's hips abruptly jerked against the mattress, gasping at the sensation. Marik immediately knew he'd found what he was looking for.

Focused more on pleasuring than prepping him, Marik started to thrust his fingers in and out, slowly at first, but then a bit faster, causing Bakura's hips to twitch with every brush against the spot, sounds of pleasure at his lips.

" _Oh_ …Fuck—…"

" _Yes_ …?" he intentionally cooed back, just to irritate him.

But Bakura didn't say much in response, curling his back after a particularly hard thrust.

"You love it." Marik spoke again in a breathless mutter. "You _love_ being fucked."

Bakura's head arched back against the pillow, and another aroused groan slipped out of him. By this point, he only wanted Marik to get on with it, he felt he could refrain from expressing his impatience for a while more, if only to save Marik the ego inflation.

On Marik's end, he couldn't wait a second longer. The boy quickly withdrew his fingers, fumbling for the lube before dousing his arousal and impatiently grabbed Bakura by the thighs.

Watching intently as Marik positioned himself, Bakura held his breath, and Marik proceeded to push inside with a low moan. "Mm… Still tight," he breathed, giving a small, experimental thrust.

Bakura shuddered, relishing the heat of arousal that burned through his loins and pooled in the pit of his stomach. Thoughtlessly failing to give Bakura the initial time needed to adjust, Marik began to move, his cock sliding out before being roughly thrust back inside, this time, burying himself to the hilt.

"I'm… all the way inside," he smirked, teasing the tip of Bakura's erection with his fingers. "...How does it feel?"

"Shut up and move." Bakura gasped as Marik abruptly withdrew, only to force himself back inside, establishing a faster pace. Marik then decided to pay more attention to the angle of his thrusts, attempting to brush that spot as often as he could. His attempt certainly paid off, and at the first bit of contact with Bakura's prostate, he clenched around Marik's cock, toes curling in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut, his jaw hanging open.

It felt so fucking good, the way Marik pounded into him.

"M-Marik- _Oh_ … Shit…!" 

Marik didn't slow his pace, encouraged by Bakura's breathless exclamations.

" _Hn_ … Bakura…" Moaning unabashedly as he pushed in again, Marik dipped his head, crashing his lips into Bakura's as he continued to thrust into him. Their moans and gasps were trapped against the other's mouth, and Bakura's arms quickly came up to draw Marik lips more tightly, desperately against his. In response, Marik grabbed Bakura's cock, flush against his abdomen, and stroked it in time with every thrust of his hips.

And that was all it took to push Bakura over the edge.

He practically saw stars as his back came up off the bed in an arch, completely overtaken by arousal as Bakura moaned loudly into Marik's mouth, his come painting both their stomachs.

Despite the churn of pleasure in his gut at witnessing Bakura's finish, Marik wasn't quite finished himself, and continued to rail into him at a merciless pace. It was a minute later when he finally reached his own peak, head thrown back as he pushed all the way in and gave a lewd cry as he came, spilling everything inside Bakura.

 

… _Fuck_ , that was good.

 

Marik slid out, then collapsed on top of him, practically gasping for breath.

" _Tch_... I _told_ you not to come inside... Bastard." Bakura gave a sluggish mumble, probably trying to seem angrier than he sounded.

"…I'll help you clean up… in the shower," Marik offered breathlessly, smirking at his lover. "...And then we can go again."

Bakura scoffed, but then his lips seemed to be curling upwards against his will.

"...I suppose I can't refuse, since you're _so_ willing to assist me."

"Exactly," Marik thrummed, planting a lingering kiss on Bakura's lips. "…Now c'mon." He pulled back, wearing the same knowing smirk from before. "Let's get the water running."


End file.
